


Faults

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Supernatural/Batman fusions. [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman/Supernatural AU: Dick Grayson died one year after he sold his soul to bring Damian Wayne back to life. He died enacting the plan Tim had painstakingly thought of to save him. Tim wasn’t dealing well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faults

_It was the middle of the day when Tim walked into the gas store._

     It wasn’t an unusual place, not in the slightest, hell it looked like every other gas station he had ever entered: bright lights hanging from every inch of the ceiling, five year old music softly floating out from the speakers in the back, dodgy looking hotdogs being spun in a display case. Tim had stopped in front of the hot dog rack, made a face, and walked over to the other end of the store to grab himself a bottle of water and a diet granola bar. It wasn’t the best lunch, but it would do; better than the shit that Jason shoved down his throat. He had walked up to the front, placed his objects on the counter, and stared down at the floor tiles, trying to figure out how long they had been installed to amuse himself.

                “Are you really that bored, Timmy?”

                Tim looked up at once, reaching for his gun. The man at the register, an old elderly cashier, smiled at him, his eyes completely black like someone had painted over them with tar. He smiled, his teeth stained with blood and small  bits of gore, and Tim took a step back, his aim never wavering.  The pop music still played, the only other noise in the joint besides Tim’s breathing.

                “What do you want? Tim’s voice was all business, cutting to the chase. In another life, he might have been a fine business man.

                The demon chuckled, leaning forward on the counter. “Just to stop by and say hi to my little brother, that’s all. Miss me, Timmy? Must be hard, not living under my shadow. Or maybe you like it better that way.”

                Tim’s gun shook ever so slightly. It would have been impossible to notice unless one was looking for it. “You’re not him.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

“Souls turn into demons over decades in hell, not a couple of weeks. You’re lying.”

             The demon leapt over the counter, striding across the floor with a large smile on his face. Tim recognized the smile, he had seen it before painted on a different man, and he gritted his teeth.  The demon got inches away from Tim and leaned forward just enough so that the tip of Tim’s gun touched his chest. He smiled, wide and fearsome, and licked his lips. They turned ruby red with blood. “You so sure, little brother? Then why don’t you shoot?”

                Tim’s finger trembled on the trigger, his mouth going dry. It couldn’t be Dick, it couldn’t. He was going to save Dick, Dick wasn’t going to go to hell and-

                The demon snapped his fingers and Tim went flying into the back wall, his head knocking into the brick. The glass windows next to him shattered, the glass raining down on him all at once. Tim stayed slumped on the floor, blood pooling from the back of his head and shallow cuts. The demon laughed, striding closer.

                “Hesitation is going to get you killed, Timmy. Too much thinking.” He reached forward, twisting his fingers in Tim’s hair, and pulled him up. Tim fought back the urge to scream. “At least Jason took some action.” The demon waved his hand, and the counter at the front moves, reveling Jason, beat to a pulp, slash marks up and down his chest. The demon turned back to Tim, and smiled, a sad tint to it. “Hellhounds, hurt like a bitch, don’t they? I would know.”

            “Jason wake up! Tim screamed, tasting blood in his mouth, like copper. The demon pouted, laying his hand over Tim’s heart, his fingers poised on his chest. Tim turned back to the demon, blood dribbling down his chin. “I tried Dick, I tried, I swear it was supposed to work. Dick _, please_.”

            The demon shook his head. “Too little, too late, little brother. “ He leaned forward, pressing a kiss in Tim’s hair.

            Tim woke up right when the demon plunged his hand into his chest.

            He took deep breaths, resettling, trying to gain a sense of where he was. Motel room. Alone. Rented out under the name Alvin Draper. No one could find him here, not the demons, not monsters, and most of all, not his family. The family he let down.

                Tim closed his eyes and rested back down on his pillows, listening for any noise in the corridor. It was only upon hearing nothing that he began to cry.

***

     Dick Grayson died one year after he sold his soul to bring Damian Wayne back to life. He died enacting the plan Tim had painstakingly thought of to save him.

     Tim wasn’t dealing well.

***

            Tim wasn’t a huge fan of public transportation. He hated the way public buses smelled, how everyone seemed to look at him when he walked in, how they tended to be much too slow. But when it came down to it, Tim didn’t exactly have a lot of options; steal a car and Barbara would find him within the hour. So Tim sucked up the odd smells and the crying babies, and jumped onto another bus, this one headed for Indiana.

            As the bus road down the highway, Tim opened up his bag, pulling out a stack of files on his next gig, and his cell phone. He had disabled the GPS and tracking systems ages ago, a couple of nights after the “plan” went wrong.

            He turned on the device, flipping through a few of the news reports as the thing booted up. He was on the second page about the attacks when his phone chimed, the screen displaying one phrase.

            “You have 5 messages.”

            Tim sighed, reaching for the phone. After typing in his passcode, he held it up to his ear, listening as the phone dialed up.

             _“Hey, ex-boyfriend wonder.”_  Stephanie’s voice came from the phone, as bright and as optimistic as ever.  _“I’m in Texas with the demon child, doing a gig with a bunch of vampires. I was wondering if you could call one of us back soon so we know you’re not dead and all of that. No, sending me a post card totally doesn’t count as letting me know you’re alright.”_ There was a pause and Tim could hear Damian’s voice shouting in the distance.  _“Sorry, I have to stop chewing you out; Damian’s having a nightmare again. Be careful and call me.”_

Tim smiled for a second, before deleting the message. It was good to know Stephanie was alright. The next one came up right after.

            “ _Replacement, I swear to god, if you don’t get your head out of your ass before-“_ Tim ended the message right then and there, waiting for the next one.

             _“Tim, buddy.”_  Conner sounded a little strained over the phone line.  _“I know you’re off brooding and all of that, but we’re pretty worried about you. Rachel has been doing tracking spells every night to make sure you’re in one piece. Call us, or at least your family- we’re freaking out over here man.”_  Tim saved that one. God, he missed the Titians.

             _“Tim.”_ Jason again.  _“If you don’t come home, then I’m coming after you.”_  That was from a while ago, at least a week and a half ago.

             _“Tim!”_  Tim froze with the phone in hand.  He had forgotten that his phone played saved messages as well.  _“It’s Dick. I know you’re busy burying yourself in research about my deal, but I’m having a Star Trek Marathon with the family, and you better be there. Yes, we’re watching “Wrath of Kahn.” Get your ass over here, or I’ll find you myself. Love you, Timbo.”_    

            Tim sat there for a few moments, listening to the message again. His hand shook and he closed his eyes, pressing the save button on the cell device. He turned the phone off, placed it back in his bag, and turned back to his research.

            No matter how much he read, he couldn’t get the sound of Dick’s voice out of his head.

***

            Jason found him a few days later, at a motel in Iowa. Tim and woken up from another nightmare, screaming at the top of his lungs, only to find Jason sitting on the desk across from his bed. Tim stared for a few minutes, before clearing his throat.

            “Uh,” Tim said as Jason glared at him, his arms crossed. “You made good time.”

            Jason stared at him for a few seconds before laughing, leaning back against the motel wall. He ran his hand through his hair, cackling, and Tim began to make his way out of his bed. He made it a foot before Jason was staring at him again, a slight smile on his face.

            “That’s your introduction? God Replacement, you never change do you?”

            For the first time in a few weeks, Tim smiled.

***

            All things considered, Tim got off easy.

            Jason was pissed, truly pissed, but he seemed to be holding it back in favor of getting Tim back in line. There was no more running away, no more hunts alone, just a simple order for Tim to start hunting with Jason again  before he got himself killed.

            Tim took it. He was expecting Jason to punch him in the face.

***

            Jason had changed since Dick’s death.

            He was a little less hot headed, a little more calm. He played nicer with the witnesses, but worked quicker to get rid of the monsters. He headed phone calls with a variety of hunters like Dick did before him, handing out information and resources to those who needed it. He was still snarky, he still was a jackass, but he had toned it down. In reality, he was more like Dick.

            Tim hated it. He hated that his brother had to fill in a position that he was never supposed to fill. He hated that the stress made Jason smoke more, that Jason woke up from nightmares more often.  He hated how Jason seemed to always be on edge, waiting for a call that would force him to go into “leader” mode, rather than just regular old Jason.

            So Tim threw himself into his research even more, learning more about demon deals, and helping souls escape from hell. He filed it deep in his computer, some place where Jason would never stumbled upon it. He worked on other types of lore, taking looks at the Pagans for any advice.

            He would get Dick back, one way or another.  

***

     He didn’t use any of it until a case in November involving the goddess of winter who was stealing folks in the middle of the night to eat their souls and use their hollow husks as her person servants. The winter goddess charmed them out of their homes, promising their hearts desire in exchange for their servitude.

            “Tim stop!”

            Jason ran into the clearing, half covered in blood. Tim was standing in the center, a bowl in his hands that contained a few herbs and some animal bones. His face was ashen, almost blue, his eyes wide and dazed. Jason gasped, placing his hands on his knees and took a deep breath.

            “What the hell are you doing?”

            “I-“ Tim cut off, looking at the bowl in his hands, his expression somewhat confused. “I’m going to serve my lady.”

            “Like hell you are!” Jason took a step forward, reaching for the banishment bag in his back pocket. He took another breath, trying to keep calm. “Look, Tim, put the bowl down, alright? If you do this, you’re going to die.”

            “So?” Jason almost dropped the banishment bag. Tim didn’t seem processed there, a slight smile on his face. “You’ll get Dick back. She’s going to bring him back. You guys need Dick, not me.”

            Jason took another step forward, but Tim reached for the bowl as he moved closer. Jason swore under his breath, damn how did he miss this, and shook his head. “Listen, Replacement, we need you. We need your tech skills and your dorky knowledge. You really think Dick would want you to do this?”

            Tim shrugged. “It’s not his choice. I screwed up; I should deal with it.”

            Jason grinded his teeth together, trying not to make any sudden movements besides his slow advance. “Are you really that screw up that you think that this mess is your fault? Because it’s not. It’s not any of our faults. Dick made his choice, and it was the wrong one, but damn it, Tim, it isn’t your fault. It isn’t your fault.”

            Tim’s hands began to shake, just enough that the bowl fell from his fingers. Jason rushed at him, pressing the banishment bag right to Tim’s skin. Tim let out a howl, and the winter spirit screamed, fleeing Tim’s body at once before bursting into flames. Tim fell to his knees, struggling for breath and Jason dropped the banishment bag, kneeling next to him.

            “You’re okay, Tim. It’s not your fault. You’re okay.”

            Under the moonlight, for the first time since Dick had died, Tim began to cry.


End file.
